


Monsters in the Night

by fiface



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, High School, High School Student Derek Hale, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski Finds Out About Werewolves, Werewolves, all the characters - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-01 20:10:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6534691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiface/pseuds/fiface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles gets attacked. Derek Hale, the Lacrosse Captain, saves him. </p><p>Stiles learns that he is a little more than human, werewolves are a thing and that there is a serial killer on the loose in Beacon Hills.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Monsters in the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warnings for attempted non-con, though nothing actually happens.
> 
> Also, I decided to change my previous story Rune Me so that the Hale family are alive and that Derek is a student. I dunno, I've liked this idea for a long time, so thought I'd give it a shot. 
> 
> Stiles may seem a little ooc in this chapter... Traumatic ordeals and all that...

Rain was pouring, lashing against Stiles’ old blue Jeep, which made it all the more frustrating when the engine spluttered and died, right there, in the middle of the road. It was just Stiles’ luck that it was night time, and that he had chosen to take the back roads in and out of town, just so his father wouldn’t know. 

As the engine died, the lights went out leaving Stiles sitting in the dark.

“How is this so typically my life?” Stiles demanded of his surroundings as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. When pressing buttons did not result in the screen coming to life, he tossed it onto the passenger seat and slammed his hands on the cracked steering wheel, causing his palms to sting.

“Seriously, my life.” Stiles muttered. His stupid phone was dead. His stupid car was dead. He had a stupid curfew to maintain so that his father would be entirely unaware of his transgressions of leaving the city limits, unsupervised, otherwise he would be so dead.

Stiles cursed his bad luck. He had to get home and his car showed no signs of getting him there. Of course, he had to pick the roads where the traffic was almost completely non-existent. And how stupid could he really be? Why didn't he charge his stupid phone? Everyone knew that the average charge on a stupid smart phone was basically five minutes.

“Dad is going to kill me.” Stiles grumbled. He was on a city wide lockdown, banned from leaving Beacon Hills because he and Scott had set off illegal fireworks two weeks ago just outside the city limits. 

“I’ll have to walk,” he murmured, resigned. 

Before Stiles could talk himself out of the probably stupid decision, he had grabbed his bag, jammed his phone into it, and jumped out of the useless Jeep. The heavy rain flattened his hair to his head within seconds, and Stiles wondered how his day could possibly get any worse.

He hadn’t bought a jacket, he was wearing a pair of worn jeans, and he had forgone his customary plaid shirt. At least his bag was keeping his back mostly dry, even if it was filled with the books he had bought, which felt like it weight a ton. 

“I am a goddamned idiot,” Stiles declared. “Next time you leave Beacon Hills: Be prepared.” 

Stiles could barely see ahead of himself, courtesy of the thick, black rainclouds blocking out the moon. But the ground still felt like the hard tarmac and his eyes slowly adjusted so that he could just see the outlines of his surroundings at least.

Stiles had been walking for what felt like all night, but in reality had barely been a few minutes. He had started out at a fast pace, wanting to make good time, but he didn’t know how far he was from Beacon Hills, or how long it would take to get back. He was just hoping that a care would drive past and stop for him, the driver being nice and all. 

Time passed.

Stiles was cold, wet and tired. All he wanted was a hot shower and bed. It didn’t look like that would be happening any time soon though. 

Stiles was just about to start humming to himself to try and distract himself from his long walk in the cold, wet and dark, when the fine hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Throughout his years at Beacon Hills High School, Stiles had been on the victim end of bullies many times, and had developed a keen danger tingle. It was rarely wrong. 

He glanced around himself, trying to see if there was anyone or anything following him. Stiles couldn’t see a damned thing and the feeling didn’t dissipate. But, when nothing happened, he attempted to ignore the persistent feeling

Therefore, Stiles was completely unprepared when he felt a hard shover that knocked him off his feet and face first onto the road, hitting and scraping his chin and hands in the process. 

“What the Hell?” he managed to wheeze out as his bag was ripped off his back and a heavy weight landed on top of him, winding him. A large hand grabbed his hair, pulling his head back, exposing his neck.

“My, oh my, what a tantalising scent you have, boy. It matches your pretty little face,” It was a man with a strange accent that Stiles could not place. Stiles whimpered. He was frozen to the spot, unable to move, and words, his closest ally, refused to come to his aid. 

“I’m going to enjoy this,” the man whispered into Stiles’ ear, his warm breath moist on his skin. The hand that wasn’t wrapped in Stiles’ hair was suddenly touching his exposed throat, caressing down his chest. Stiles’ skin tingled wherever the cold hand touched.

“I don’t know whether to eat you first, or play with you,” the man said with a cold laugh. 

Stiles was terrified. He was unable to move, and a strange man was holding him down while making horrible threats. Stiles had no idea who he had even gotten into this situation in the first place. 

Suddenly, the hand that had been caressing him stilled before wrapped around his throat, constricting his air supply choking him before the weight was gone from Stiles entirely. Stiles was able to move again, and he slowly sat up, and tried to see where the man had disappeared. He couldn’t see him.

Stiles heard movement behind him and spun on his knees, expecting to see a hulking dark shadow of a man, but instead his eyes landed on a teenage boy he recognised, holding a torch up to his own face so that Stiles wouldn’t be blinded. 

It was a boy from school. Stiles would recognise that face anywhere. The boy was both popular and the son of the Mayor of Beacon Hills. Derek Hale. He was a jock and on the schools Lacrosse team. Derek walked closer.

“Stilinski? Are you alright? What happened?” Stiles was sure he could hear fear in Derek’s voice. Stiles relaxed, collapsing onto his backside as the sudden rush of adrenaline left his body.

“Someone body tackled me from behind,” he was able to stutter out weakly. Derek knelt before him, his large, warm hands landing on Stiles’ shoulders. Stiles stared up at him, trying to will his jumbled, confused, and scared mind to stillness. 

“Where’d your attacker go? Did you get a look at him?” Derek asked as his eyes darted around, looking for any sight of the dangerous man, his head tilted to the side like he was listening. 

“No,” Stiles frowned, watching Derek’s strange actions. “You scared him off,” he reached out a shaking hand and drew Derek into a surprised hug, squishing his face into the older boys shoulder. Derek returned the gesture after a moment, wrapping his own arms securely around Stiles.

“Thank you,” Stiles said, his voice muffled by Derek’s dark jacket.

“That’s okay,” Derek said, a small smile on his face when they both pulled back. “I saw your car a few miles back, and when I realised you weren’t in it, I kept an eye out for you. What happened?” 

Stiles shrugged. “My car died. I needed to make it back to town before my dad gets home from work, so I started walking,” he admitted. “Besides, how’d you know it was my car?” Stiles asked after a moments pause. Derek smirked at him. 

“Everyone in Beacon Hills knows your car. It’s very distinctive, Stiles. It’s a death trap on wheels,” the older boy said as he pulled Stiles to his feet, picked up the discarded bag and lead him back down the road.

“Hey! My baby is not a death trap,” Stiles cried. “And, where are we going?” he asked after a moment.

“To my car. It’s just back here,” Derek said quietly, still carrying Stiles’ bag over one shoulder. “What do you have in this thing? Bricks?” Derek asked, his voice edging on teasing Stiles poked out his tongue, just as Derek’s car came into view.

Everyone at school had always been jealous of the cars that the Hale children drove. Fancy, expensive cars that no young driver should ever have. 

The internal light in Derek’s fancy pants Camaro came on and Stiles may have leapt back a step, as Derek’s younger sister Cora, was sitting in the passenger seat, her face was in its usual blank glare. Derek snorted at Stiles’ reaction.

“Get in the car, I’ll take you home,” he said, opening the back passenger door for Stiles who happily and readily climbed into the car, not caring that the back seat was tiny and cramped.

“You alright there, Stilinski? Nice scrape on your chin.” Cora said, not turning to even look at Stiles, who narrowed his eyes at the back of her seat. Derek started the car and began to drive back to beacon Hills.

“I’m sure I’ll live,” Stiles muttered, although he had gone to school with the Hales’ since pre-school, he had never been in the same social circle as them, and it had been very rare that either of them had ever acknowledged his existence. Sometimes Stiles truly felt invisible.

“What was the go out there?” Cora asked, breaking the silence that had been reigning. Stiles opened his mouth to respond, but Derek beat him to it.

“Some creepy attacked Stilinski, had him pinned to the ground. He ran off when he heard me approaching. White guy, maybe mid twenties, average height, dark hair. A large mole or birthmark on his cheek,” Derek said casually as he steered the car. Stiles stared, gobsmacked.

“You never said you saw what the guy looked like!” Stiles exclaimed, poking the headrest of Derek’s seat ineffectually. Derek stared at him through the rear view mirror.

“You never said that he spoke to you,” Derek returned mildly, dark eyebrows raised. Stiles opened his mouth to respond, but closed it pretty quickly. Derek smirked at him. 

“Eyes forward, mister,” Stiles snapped, going for the passive aggressive route.

“What did the man say to you Stiles?” Cora asked softly, which had the boy jerking his head to look at her. She was turned around in her seat, facing him. The way she spoke was so unlike the way Stiles had ever heard her speak. Cora was always so confident and dangerous, intimidating, but never soft and concerned. 

Stiles thought back to what the man had said. The exotic voice echoing through his mind. 

I don’t know whether to eat you first or play with you.

Just thinking the words sent a shiver jolting down Stiles’ spine. Cora was eyeing him, concern clearly evident in her gaze.

“Stiles?” she prompted. Stiles startled. 

“Just threaten me, is all. Told me he couldn’t decide he was going to eat me or play with me first,” it made Stiles’ skin crawl to even say the words, and he could even look Cora in the eyes. He turned his head and stared out the window, trying to block the attack, the words, where he was right then, out of his mind.

Stiles stared out the window, through the pouring rain and at the trees that were flashing by on either side of the vehicle. He felt the phantom weight of his attacker on his back, and his skin was cold where those hands had touched.

What a tantalising scent you have.

Stiles hadn’t even thought about the words, being more concerned with the threat to his life then possible insane person banter. Had the man been smelling him? That added absolute weirdness to the whole thing. Who smelled strangers anyway? All the same, it sent a shudder through him.

“Stilinski?” Derek said loudly, sharply, obviously trying to get Stiles’ attention. “Stiles, you need to calm down before you have a panic attack,” he said as he pulled the car onto the shoulder of the road.

“Do you need to get out and have some fresh air?” Derek asked, unbuckling his seatbelt.

“Are you a complete idiot, Der? He was just attacked whilst walking. Do you really think that’s a smart thing to do?” Cora admonished her brother with a smack on the arm. Stiles was staring at them both with wide eyes.

“Would you guys mind talking to each other more? It seems that listening to you two argue is keeping me calm enough to not pass out,” Stiles stuttered. Both Derek and Cora glanced at him with identical looks of amusement. 

“Do you want us to drop you off at home, or would you rather come back to ours and stay the night?” Cora asked. Stiles thought about it for a moment. Would he rather stay with them? He knew them… to a degree, and it would mean there was someone around, because his father had the night shift. But… 

“What school tomorrow?” he asked. Cora shrugged.

“Derek will have some clothes you can borrow,” Cora said gently. Stiles stared out the window as he considered it.

“Okay,” Stiles finally murmured, after a pause. The two siblings nodded and Derek started the car again. Stiles leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, trying to block everything out and just get comfortable.

Stiles didn't realise he had drifted off to sleep until Derek’s warm hands were shaking him awake. For those few blissful moments, he had completely forgotten the strange incident that had occurred. Stiles climbed out of the Camaro, into the rain and realised he was at the Mayors house. 

It was a large, old building, one of the oldest in the town, built around the time that Beacon Hills was founded. Stiles had never been there, but he had seen photos. Everyone in town had.  
Derek remained by his side while Stiles stared up at the beautiful house, quiet and patient. Cora had already scurried inside and out of the rain, not bothering to wait for her two companions. 

Stiles turned to look at Derek.

“Thank you,” he said quietly,, before looking away. He missed the gentle smile that Derek sent him, though he noticed that the older boy had his bag slung casually over his shoulder again.

“C’mon, let’s get out of this rain before we drown,” Derek suggested, before leading the way to the front door, which stood open where Cora must have left it. The golden light from within shone out onto the porch, lighting up the front of the house.

The moment Stiles stepped through the door, he was hit with a blast of warm dry air, and the smell of baked cake. He almost grounded aloud when he realised how hungry he was.

Stiles hadn’t realised Derek had stopped walking until he bumped into the other boys back. Stiles stumbled backwards a step or two, while Derek didn’t even rock on the spit. Stiles peered around Derek to see why he had stopped, and saw a woman standing in the way. She was tall, beautiful and familiar. 

Mayor Hale was staring speculatively at her son, a bemused smile touching her lips.

“Don’t be rude, Derek. You’re blocking your friend,” Mrs Hale said, her tone light as her eyes flickered to Stiles. Derek dutifully stepped to the side. 

“Hello again, Stiles. My daughter tells me that you experienced some car troubles, and that my children came across you attempting a 20 mile trek back to Beacon Hills in this weather and offered you a ride?” Mrs Hale’s voice was gentle as she held out her hand for Stiles to shake.

“Yes Ma’am,” Stiles didn’t miss that someone had left out the attack part of the story, he just didn’t know whether it was the Mayor or Cora. He shook Mrs Hale’s hand, not adding on the missing details.

“Please, darling, call me Talia. I get enough ‘Ma’am’ at the office,” she said. “I’ve been in contact with your father, he knows you are staying the night,”

Stiles was relieved, that meant he didn't have to be the one to do any lying to his father.

“Thank you. I hope you don’t mind me staying?” he asked. he had never really stayed at anyone’s place before, besides Scotts, but Scott was his best friend, had been since kindergarten. 

“Nonsense. It’s not an issue at all. Have you eaten? Cora was starving when she came in. So she’s heating up some leftovers for you all. Then there is cake,” Mayor Hale said with a smile. Stiles nodded and followed as Talia lead him through several doors until they reaching the kitchen, Derek following silently. 

It was silent until the three teenagers were seated, eating re-heated chicken pot pie, when Talia broke it.

“So, what happened to your car Stiles?” she asked benignly. Stiles glanced at her from his spoon, trying to decide if she was testing him somehow. Her face was just that of someone asking a question with no ulterior motive. He shrugged.

“I don’t know. It just died on me. I know next to nothing about cars, and my jeep is old,” he ended with an embarrassed smile. Talia returned it with her own beautiful smile.

“Why didn't you call anyone?” she asked after a moment, genuine curiosity on her face. Both her children looked at Stiles at that question, as neither of them had thought to ask it. Stiles blushed.

“My phone was dead flat. I forgot to charge it. Today has just beanbag luck after bad luck,” Stiles admitted, looking down at his half empty bowl, unable to look the mayor in the eye.

“What were you even doing out on the back roads?” Talia asked and Stile winced.

“That would be because I thought I was being smart. Dad would never know I left Beacon Hills if I used the back roads. Guess he will now,” Stiles admitted sheepishly.

“Why were you leaving town?” Talia asked, an amused twist to her smile.

“Mom, do you have to interrogate him? I’m sure he wasn’t breaking the law,” Derek whined, staring at his mother in what was either embarrassment or annoyance. Talia laughed.

“I’m not interrogating him, sweetheart. I’m just naturally curious.” it seems to be an inside joke, because both her children snorted. Cora even rolled her eyes.

“It’s fine,” Stiles said. “I had gone a couple of towns over. They had a couple of books I wanted that I couldn’t get anywhere else,” he shrugged. It was the truth. The heavy tomes in his back pack that was sitting at Derek’s feet were only available at one place on the west coast, and that was in old Broome Falls, two towns over. Stiles would have taken Scott along, but the other boy had a date with Allison.

“Your car and your phone both died, just so you could get a couple of books?” Cora asked loudly, shaking her head in disbelief. 

“I need them for research,” Stiles defended, not lying. He had no idea why he was making sure he was telling the truth, but he was, and the Hales’ were all believing him. They didn’t need to know what the books were about, nor why he wanted them. They would think he was crazy, and they wouldn’t be the only ones. 

“I wish that was the reason for my kids irresponsible behaviour,” Talia said with a fond look at her youngest two children. “Well, I’m off to bed. Don’t stay up too late,” Talia murmured after a moment, standing and kissing her children on the forehead, and patting Stiles on the shoulder as she left the kitchen. 

Cora saluted the two boys and followed her mothers example

“Sorry if Mom was annoying. She just likes to know what’s going on. Beacon Hills is her town and she likes to be abreast of everything,” Derek said quietly, as he fiddled with his spoon. 

“It’s fine,” Stiles said. “Your Mom is a good person,” the Mayor really was. Basically everyone in Beacon Hills loved her and she never had any opposition when running for Mayor because everyone respected her that much. Stiles’ father only ever had praise for the most powerful woman in town. 

“Yeah, yeah she is,” Derek agreed, pride in his eyes. He smiled at Stiles.

“C’mon, I’ll show you to my room, and the bathroom. No doubt you’ll want to wash some of the mud off,” Derek said, standing up and waiting for Stiles to follow suit before leading him out of the kitchen and up the stairs. 

Stiles looked down at his legs as he walked. He hadn’t realised he was covered in mud, though it really shouldn’t have surprised him. He had been on the ground in the rain as some strange man attacked him. 

“And to wash his hands off,” Stiles muttered to himself. A sharp intake of breath had Stiles’ head shooting up to look at Derek, who was staring at him, his face pale. Stiles winced. He hadn’t meant for the other boy to hear his near silent words. He hadn’t even meant to say them out loud. Derek’s eyes were wide.

“That man… We got there in time? He didn’t get a chance to actually…” Derek trailed off, seemingly not wanting to finish his horrid thought. Stiles closed his eyes and breathed deeply through his nose. He was pretty sure he heard Derek whimper.

“No, he didn't get a chance to do whatever he was going to… Eat me, play with me, whatever it was,” Stiles said as he opened his eyes to see Derek relax. Stiles really didn’t want to think about any of it. Derek seemed to realise that as he nodded his head.

“Good,” was all Derek said, and he began walking again. Derek’s bedroom was large and messy, a typical teenage boys bedroom. Clothes littered the floor, his bed, which was on a large platform alcove beneath large bay windows was queen sized and unmade. 

He also had the latest gaming consoles side by side before a large flat screen television with almost as many games as what Stiles had. Though where Stiles’ games were stacked neatly in alphabetical order, Derek’s were sprawling messily, some of the cases open, and some of the CD’s just sitting atop the consoles. 

In the corner was a desk cluttered with an unopened laptop and papers. A large bookcase took up almost an entire wall, filled with books of both fiction and non fiction. Stiles, impressed by the collected, didn’t even bother looking closely. He was completely surprised by the sheer number of books that the Jock Derek possessed. The other wall was covered in posters of bands, girls, games and sporting legends. Stiles was almost positive he saw a Game of Thrones poster up there as well.

“Sorry about the mess,” Derek apologised, though he didn’t seem sincere. He walked over the clothes on the floor as though they weren't even there.

“Mom is always nagging me to clean my room, but I’m always too distracted with Lacrosse and taking Cora to her events that I forget about it all the time,” Derek said when Stiles didn’t say anything, and stayed near the door. Stiles nodded his head.

“I’ll get you some pyjamas, then I’ll take you to the bathroom,” Derek said. Stiles nodded again as Derek dug into the almost unseen wardrobe. A moment later and he was straightening up with a pair of pyjama pants and a dark blue t-shirt on hand.

“Here you go,” he said, handing the items to Stiles as he lead the way down the hallway and into a large, brightly lit bathroom. 

“The towels are under the sink. Just use whatever shampoo and body wash is in the shower already. After, come back to my room and we’ll set up a bed for you,” Derek said quietly, patted Stiles on the shoulder and left him in the bathroom. 

As the door shut, Stiles stared around himself, eyeing the interior of the room. It was opulent and fancy, with a marble bath and a luxurious shower. The only thing that made the bathroom even seem like it was ever used was the hand basin. It was absolutely covered in hair products and with an amused snort, Stiles realised that only half of them were for girls. 

Stiles began undressing. He glanced up at the mirror and gasped at his reflection. His chest and throat were a mass of bruising, which made no sense, as his attacker had only caressed him, except for at the last moment when he attempted to choke Stiles before fleeing.

Stiles ran his thin fingers over the nearly black bruising and winced at the pain that ran through him at the touch. With a frustrated groan, Stiles turned away from the mirror and climbed into the shower. The freezing cold water quickly turned scalding hot. Stiles didn’t even care that it turned his skin a furious red, but before it could burn him, he turned the other tap to a temperature he could reasonably handle.

Almost instantly, Stiles reached for the bottle of Lavender body wash and began scrubbing his body, trying to get the feel of the mans hands off him, as his words began to echo through his head.

Eat you… Play with you… Tantalising scent… Pretty face…

An endless repetition. The way the man whispered, breath moist as he spoke into Stiles’ ear. Stiles slid to the bottom of the shower, hands clasped over his mouth, as he tried to stop the sobs that wanted to escape his lips. What type of person would just randomly attack a stranger on a deserted road?

Stiles wasn’t sure if it was minutes or hours later that he slowly climbed from the shower, though his fingers had wrinkled. He refused to look at himself in the mirror again as he dried and dressed himself in Derek’s clothes. 

Stiles stumbled into Derek’s room and barely managed to maintain his balance as he tripped over the piles of clothes that littered the floor. the main light was off, but the flickering of the TV screen lit up a jumbled path and Derek’s face as he played Call of Duty on his playstation. 

“Hey, want to play?” Derek asked, not looking up as he shot his enemy, point blank. Stiles collapsed onto the bed beside the older boy.

“Sure,” he said and accepted the proffered controller.

It was after midnight when the two teens finished multiple bouts of COD, with Stiles kicking Derek’s butt completely.

“Should’ve known you’d be good at gaming,” Derek said with a smirk.

“Obviously. I’m a nerd. I spend most of my time gaming,” Stiles said quietly. Derek hit pause and turned to stare at Stiles.

“You’re being awfully quiet. I always thought you were a talker,” he said, raising an eyebrow. Stiles shrugged. 

“I am,” he said. “But, things like today leave me kind of wiped,” he admitted.

“Do things like today happen a lot?” Derek asked lightly. Stiles snorted.

“Barely.”

Stiles lay back on Derek’s bed as the other boy began playing the latest NBA, the type of game that Stiles chose not to play, because he wasn’t a fan of Basketball. Within minutes, Stiles had slipped off to sleep, while Derek cursed out his game. 

 

*

Stiles awoke, one side of his body boiling hot, sweating. He was confused, he had no idea where he was or who he was apparently sharing a bed with. With an effort, he pried his eyes open, turned his head and Stiles’ eyes landed on the familiar dark head of Derek Hale.

At jus the sight of the other teen, the memories came flooding back. The attack, Derek saving him… gaming with the most popular boy in school. Stiles stared at Derek. He was an exceptionally good looking guy, and had barely said a word to Stiles in the entire time they had been at school together. 

Derek was the captain of the Lacrosse team, had dated several of the prettiest girls at school, was the son of the Mayor and was a favoured son of Beacon Hills. 

Stiles’ breath caught in his throat and he froze. He didn’t know what to do. If he moved, he might wake Derek up, and the boy might be highly unimpressed with laying so close to Stiles. Before he really had a chance to panic, Derek opened his eyes and his green gaze landed on Stiles.

“Good morning,” Derek said calmly, as he stretched. Stiles felt his muscles move along his side. He knew he probably looked like a giant freak, staring right at the guy whose bed he had accidentally hijacked and slept in.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep in your bed,” Stiles said, blushing as he sat up and scooted off the bed, pulling his borrowed t-shirt down to over his momentarily exposed torso. Derek was far more muscled than Stiles, who was super skinny, so he kind of swam in the top and the trousers barely managed to stay sitting on his hips. The only saving grace was that the two of them were almost the same height. 

“No worries, things happen,” Derek said, with a wave of his hand, standing up and turning to look at Stiles.

“You’ve got a nice graze on your chin,” the olde boy said. Stiles’ eyebrows shot up. He had forgotten abut that. About his chin, not the attack. His hand flew up to touch it. 

“Is it bad?’ he asked. It would be just his luck that he had a horrid mark on his face. 

“I’ve seen worse. But it’s not pretty,” Derek commented. He then turned and rifled through his wardrobe, pulling out a pair of dark jeans and a plan t-shirt and jacket combination and handed them to Stiles, who in turn thanked him and turned to get dressed. 

“By the way, I’m sorry I don’t have any graphic tees. I’ve noticed you seem to like your graphic book shirts,” Derek said. Stiles was shirtless, but he had just pulled on the jeans when Derek spoke. He turned to face Derek, grinning. 

“You’ll correct that before next time, obviously,” he said jokingly, but stopped when he realised that Derek was staring at him, wide eyed.

“Uh, not that there will be another time. I just mean…” Stiles tried to back track, but Derek cut him off. 

“What the hell happened to your chest?” he exclaimed, his voice going surprisingly shrill. Stiles was confused, but then he remembered the bruises that went from his neck and down his chest.

“I fell?” Stiles answered, though it came out as more of a question. The look on Derek’s face was one of disbelief.

“You fell?” Derek’s voice perfectly matched his facial expression. Stiles gaped at him. 

“The man body tackled me. I was bound to come away with some bruises,” he snapped, pulling the borrowed tops on roughly, suddenly feeling very self-conscious.

“Doubtlessly,” Derek said, his eyes narrowed. “But bruises resulting from being shoved harshly to the ground do not generally look like hand prints or like someone tried to choke you,” Derek’s voice was bordering on dangerous. Stiles took a step back unconsciously. 

“He had his hands around my throat just before you turned up,” Stiles admitted quietly, the phantom feel of those large, cold hands tingling against his neck. Derek looked like he wanted to punch someone or something. 

“Can you please just forget about it?” Stiles almost begged, pleading with the other boy to just drop it. Derek didn’t look too pleased, but he did as asked with a tense shrug of his shoulders.

“Let’s get breakfast and then I’ll take us to school,” Derek said, his voice soft, as though he would spook Stiles if he spoke any louder. 

Stiles was pretty sure it was a safe assumption for him to make.


End file.
